


The Gallery

by ladyphlogiston



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fine Art, Gen, Jabberwocky - Freeform, Severus Snape Lives, Trolling, Trolling Fudge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18854470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyphlogiston/pseuds/ladyphlogiston
Summary: Snape, Harry, and Hermione unite their powers....for evil.  Or at least for trolling.





	The Gallery

**Author's Note:**

> This was my brother's idea. He insists it wasn't, and that he was idly proposing a prank to play on hypothetical future strangers and I was the one who decided Snape would use it to troll the Ministry. But I'm not sure what else he expected.
> 
> (Thanks to Ciclavex for his advice about British government, my husband for his excellent beta-ing work, and of course, AUserByAnyOtherHandle, because it was his idea)

"It's hardly my fault that you...."

"If _someone_ hadn't asked that harebrained house elf to clean out the potions lab...."

"Both of you SHUT UP!!" Hermione yelled, slamming her book down on the kitchen table.

Harry and Snape scowled at her in perfect unison.

"I have had enough!" Hermione announced, folding her arms. "I am well aware that you both have an awful lot of bad history, and I am well aware that you both need an awful lot of therapy, but I have to put up with both of you, so you _will_ stop picking at each other or so-help-me-Circe there will be a reckoning!"

The scowls softened slightly.

Hermione pulled a sheaf of parchment from her pocket and laid it flat on the table. "Now, I think the simplest way to do this would be for the two of you to unite to defeat your common enemy. Can you do that?"

Now they both looked puzzled. "But Voldemort is dead, Hermione," Harry pointed out.

Hermione smiled. "Not _that_ enemy. The Ministry!"

The scowls were back. Neither man was particularly pleased that Fudge had weaseled his way back into power barely a month after the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Now, the Ministry and the Wizarding World are currently hailing you both as heroes," Hermione continued, "but if things continue as they are, I am sure it is only a matter of time until the Ministry decides one or both of you is a Dark Lord. Again. I am considering several rather drastic courses of action—"

"Merlin save us from the plans of Gryffindors," Snape muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, if you must know, Narcissa Malfoy is helping me determine the best course of action. I assume her planning skills are not in question?"

Snape raised his eyebrows, but Harry just looked puzzled. "Why are you working with her?"

"She....offered to help, actually," Hermione replied. "I'm not sure why, but she seems sincere, and she's been very helpful."

Snape rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

Hermione glanced uncertainly down at the table and regained her train of thought. "In the meantime, both of us agree a distraction would be wise. And if that distraction makes Fudge seem rather foolish, so much the better."

Both men looked rather pleased at that, so Hermione passed a list to Snape. "To begin with, Headmaster, perhaps you could set up a memorial portrait gallery in Hogwarts?"

***

It was, Snape mused in the privacy of his own head, rather cleverly done. Mr. Thomas was a fairly skilled artist, and Hermione had arranged for him to take a course in modern art styles, and had provided him with photographs of the deceased for reference material. Combining his paintings with the few proper Wizarding portraits of heroes of the recent War that Snape had been able to find made a remarkable collection.

Hermione might chatter on about Impressionism and Cubism and Fauvism and any number of other art styles; Snape mostly found them odd. Still, he had to admire the smooth progression of stylization and distortion which allowed them to include the last painting ( _Bottle and Fishes_ by Georges Braque, copied from the original on display in a muggle museum) as if it were no different from any of the portraits.

"Ah, and of course here is Dumbledore!" Fudge proclaimed, stopping in front of the portrait. "A great man, a very great man. Perhaps occasionally a bit...but of course we must not speak ill of the dead, mustn't we, Headmaster? A very great man!"

"Indeed, Minister," Snape replied smoothly.

"And here's young Cedric Diggory!" Fudge continued. "The first victim of the Second War, I believe. I said at the time that we must not let his death be in vain! We knew then what was coming, did we not!"

"Your immediate response was certainly characteristic of your wit, Minister," Snape drawled.

"And here is the werewolf, of course, and the Metamorphmagus, such a pity....and Madam Bones, who I knew quite well, she will be greatly missed..." Fudge continued down the hall. He acted as if he recognized everyone, even the paintings that were stylized beyond recognition, but Snape could see his eyes flicking to the name plates before each exclamation.

"And....forgive me, Headmaster, but what on earth is this?" Fudge finally asked, stopping before _Bottle and Fishes_.

Snape raised one eyebrow. "You don't recognize Botella Piscibus, Minister, after all he did for you?" he asked in carefully modulated astonishment.

Fudge froze, glanced back at the painting, and pasted on a smile. "Of course, I do! A Ravenclaw, wasn't he? Just remind me..."

Snape raised both eyebrows this time. "He defended the Ministry, Minister Fudge! He gave his life to allow the Department Heads to escape when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked the Ministry in force! Your office would have been burned to the ground, were it not for his efforts!"

Fudge swallowed weakly. "Yes. Yes, of course. We must arrange for a proper memorial for the poor fellow...." he muttered.

Just then, Harry walked into the new gallery. Right on cue, Snape thought, the corner of his mouth curling up.

"Harry!" he called. "Do you know whether there has been a memorial service for Botella Piscibus? Minister Fudge seems not to remember his involvement very clearly."

Harry stopped in the middle of shaking hands with Fudge and gasped theatrically. "You....you don't remember?? I had wondered why there wasn't a service for poor old Bottles, but for him to be forgotten so quickly, just because he's from an old pureblood family from Elba...I have to say, Minister, I wouldn't have thought it of you."

"I...I...of course, there should be a service...." Fudge stammered.

Harry turned to look at the "portrait," his shoulders shaking. "He...it was such a consolation to him, too. He told me as he lay dying that he knew the leaders of the land would perform the Jabberwock Dance at his funeral, to honor the magics his family has guarded for so long...."

Snape stepped forward and put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Don't worry, my boy, I'm certain the Minister will make the proper arrangements. It has been a dreadfully busy time for everyone."

"Of course!" Fudge interjected, hastening to reassure them both. "The incompetence of my secretary has led to more than one dreadful irregularity—why, just yesterday, I had to wait a whole half hour for my tea—but rest assured, I will make the proper arrangements! I would be honored to participate in the Jabberwock Dance, though I'm afraid I do not remember it as clearly as I might desire...."

"There, you see?" Snape said. "All will be well. I believe Mr. Piscibus left a clear description of the Jabberwock Dance with his school things, so we can send over a copy this evening."

Snape smoothly herded Fudge out, and returned to where Harry was leaning against the wall, shaking with suppressed laughter. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Harry said, still giggling, "but did you see his face?"

Snape allowed himself to smile. "Indeed I did, Potter."

***

Fudge adjusted his ceremonial garb. The traditional costume for the Jabberwock Dance consisted of an orange and blue robe draped over a boxy wire structure. Fudge found it clumsy to wear and difficult to move in, but of course he could not allow himself to appear uncomfortable on such a momentous occasion. He took his beribboned staff back from Amos Diggory, who had held it for him briefly, and marched out with the other dancers, the bells on their legs jingling with every step.

Fudge had gotten Dawlish and Bagman to join him in the Jabberwock Dance, and prevailed on Madam Edgecomb, Madam Hopkirk, and Madam Laminam to partner them. Thankfully the steps had turned out to be quite simple: mostly a matter of marching back and forth in a circle and hitting the ground with their staves at intervals.

Harry Potter ascended the pulpit and began to read the traditional chant in a firm, clear voice.

 

> ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
>  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:  
>  All mimsy were the borogoves,  
>  And the mome raths outgrabe....

Fudge bowed to Madam Edgecomb as he passed her, bells jingling, and paused to thump the ground in time with the others. He was certain he could already feel the magic building in the traditional steps.

***

Despite the success of the memorial service, it was rather a relief when Fudge got back to his comfortable office. His secretary hadn't left anything on his desk, so he ordered a substantial tea and enjoyed a quiet moment.

After a while, Fudge began to be curious about the quietness of the day. He had drunk his tea and eaten his sandwich, carefully combed his hair and freshened his robes, and edited and practiced a speech or two, and still no one had come in with a question or update. Some days were quiet, of course, but this seemed unusual.

After considering the matter, Fudge ventured out of his office. He would stroll through a few of the other departments, providing a bracing sense of purpose to the people working there. It had been a while since he'd walked the building, and it would be a good gesture.

Everything seemed peaceful and normal as he ventured forth. The Aurors were bustling, moving between desks as they shared information and distributed duties. Shacklebolt, the new Department Head, seemed to be conducting a meeting with several senior Aurors.

The Department of International Cooperation was mostly empty, except for one witch who nodded to him but did not pause in dictating to a quill in a language Fudge did not recognize. Fudge waved but did not stop.

Fudge stepped into Arthur Weasley's office, and found Weasley was sitting at his desk, reading a book. Fudge was about to say hello, but a fish on a plaque on the wall suddenly began flapping and singing a song in an oddly echoing voice about "don't worry, be happy." Clearly a cursed artifact. Fudge backed out of the office.

The next hallway was one Fudge didn't recognize, and it seemed to be unusually busy. Tiberius Ogden and Narcissa Malfoy nodded to him without breaking their conversation as they entered a side room. Papers fluttered back and forth between open doors, and the sound of murmured discussions filtered out.

A large desk stood in front of the door at the end of the hall, and a young witch Fudge vaguely recognized sat behind it. She rose as Fudge approached.

"Minister Fudge, how nice to see you!" she greeted him. "I'm afraid Chancellor Weasley is in a meeting at the moment, but I can make an appointment for you if you want?"

Fudge stared at her, nonplussed. None of that sentence made sense.

Just then, Miss Granger came from one of the side rooms and approached the desk. "Penelope, do you have a copy of Percy's proposed amendments to the Proclamation of Rights?" she asked.

The witch—Penelope Clearwater, Fudge now remembered—looked through the papers on her desk. "It appears I left it inside. One moment and I'll get it for you."

"Thanks," Miss Granger replied.

Miss Clearwater turned and passed through the big door, closing it behind her, and Fudge and Miss Granger waited in silence for a moment.

Finally, Fudge spoke up. "Miss Granger, what _is_ all this?" he demanded.

"The office of the Chancellor, of course," she replied calmly. "It's part of the new reorganization. Haven't you seen the paper?"

Fudge sputtered for a minute, then picked up the _Daily Prophet_ Miss Granger had handed him. She had opened it to a back section, where a headline proclaimed "Ministry Reorganization Effort Moves Forward."

Fudge skimmed the article. What was this? A Proclamation of Rights, new Wizengamot seats, a new leadership structure?

A paragraph towards the bottom caught his eye. "'I am so happy to be moving forward towards a stronger, better Wizarding government!' exclaimed Minister Fudge, leader of the former Ministry of Magic. 'I congratulate Chancellor Weasley on his election, and look forward to my own new responsibilities!'"

"B-b-but I never said this!" Fudge sputtered.

"Oh? Since when has that mattered, Minister Fudge?" Miss Granger asked pointedly. "I mean, it will, in six months when the anti-defamation legislation is scheduled to go through, but until that time I believe the newspaper can continue its historical pattern of saying whatever it feels like."

Fudge was flabbergasted. "And what exactly are my new responsibilities supposed to be?" he demanded.

Miss Granger smiled at him, but there was no humor in her eyes. "Oh, you know. Waving. Signing things occasionally, when we need it for the look of the thing. And we have you slated to man the Dunk Tank at the Midsummer Fete; I'm sure you'll be splendid at that."

**Author's Note:**

> Bottle and Fishes is a real painting and may be seen here: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/braque-bottle-and-fishes-t00445


End file.
